Jump Starting Myself

Lots of people shop on Black Friday, but I'm not one of them.

And not because of the crowds, either, I just hate shopping any time (except grocery/wine shopping) and avoid it like the plague.

Some people would say this calls my femininity into question, but I'm okay with that.

So instead, I found a friend who wanted to accompany me to Bark Park and we loaded the dogs into my car.

But when I turned the key, all I heard was that sickening sound you get when your battery has abandoned you.

J-Ward is still a ghost town, so I couldn't think of a soul who could give me a jump, but then I remembered that I didn't need anyone to get jumped.

Years ago, I had been given the perfect Valentine's Day gift: one of those multiple-use auto devices that checks your tire pressure, puts air in a flat and jump starts your car.

Score!

I hooked that baby up and before you could say Happy Valentine's Day, I was off to Auto Zone to buy a new battery. It wasn't how I intended to start my day, but I do consider it an accomplishment to have jumped a car myself for the first time in my life.

Seriously.

Lunch was Carytown Burgers and Fries, because nothing says post-Thanksgiving like red meat.

Clearly, we weren't the only ones craving cheeseburgers; the place was non-stop busy the entire time we were there.

After an alternately pleasantly warm/cold and windy hour at the dog park due to dense and fast-moving clouds, we headed home.

I decided it was basil harvesting time. The basil growing in my dining room window since May is over a foot tall and quite full, so I picked enough to make several batches of pesto.

As the food processor pulsed all that basil, it smelled like summer in my kitchen, especially with the sun shining so brightly through the window.

There's nothing like freshly made pesto to enjoy all winter to remind you that it will eventually be warm again.

Don't be fooled, though, that's not optimism talking, just fatalism.